That Isn't Like You

I caught up with an old friend recently.  He and I used to work at the Pentagon and our paths have not crossed for dozens of years.  I suggested he read A Rose for Sergei, but I didn’t give a clear reason as to why.  I didn’t even mention that I wrote it.  “Please read it,” I asked, “consider it your homework.”  With a cheerful goodbye he said he just might do that.

I think my mystery homework request captured his interest because I got a call back a few days later.  “I did my homework, I read the book,” he said.  He was shocked to hear my story and that I would write a book about Sergei.  “You’re such a private person,” he said.  “Why?” he asked, “Writing about your personal life isn’t like you at all.”

He is right, that isn’t like me at all to share something that private.  I tried to explain the reasons why I wrote about Sergei Kourdakov—I don’t want Sergei to be forgotten, I don’t want his story to be discredited, and it is a story that only I could write.  After hearing my explanation, my friend completely changed his mind.  “That actually is like you,” he said.  “That is just like you to want to stand up for him.

Sometimes we do surprise ourselves.  What we don’t think is like us at all . . . turns out to be exactly who we are.